Happiness Escourted Despair to the Door
by Miss Pontmercy
Summary: Marius' thoughts after Valjean confesses to him, and how he keeps this all from Cosette. Sort of rambling. Let me know if you like it at all, please.
1. The Confession

Marius walked right back to the sitting room and bent his knees mechanically until he was seated on the couch. Head in his hands, he tried to process what had just happened. Cosette's father was a convict. A thief. That quiet old man who'd calmly sat besides Cosette during so many afternoons was an ex-convict.

Shocked though he was, when Marius thought about it, it did explain a few things. The man had always seemed slightly off- different than a normal human being. Marius often thought of him as an enigma. Monsieur Fauchelevent- or, well, he wasn't Fauchelevent, was he? He was Jean Valjean. And what was Cosette? _Who _was Cosette? An orphan, most likely. But how had that man just come across her? Was she wandering alone somewhere? Where was she from? Who were her parents?

Marius shook his head- those were questions that he would probably never have an answer to, unless he confronted Valjean himself, which he was not inclined to do. And he could not ask Cosette, out of respect for the promise he'd made to Valjean.

_Eh!_ he thought in disgust. That promise. He already resented letting the man in the house every evening- the thought of having him so near to Cosette made his stomach twist. However, he did not resent promising not to tell Cosette about all this. It would break her heart, and that was something Marius did not want to do.

Marius' hands were shaking in shock as he tried to take stock of how much this terrible realization would affect his life. Would he be forever tied to a convict? Was he now covering for him, an accomplice?

No, he didn't think he was. But this contact with someone so wretched just made him uncomfortable. The galleys- he'd been in the galleys! The sheer horror!

Marius racked his brain, trying to think of all the times he'd noticed something strange about the man. The Gorbeau robbery- how had he never asked Cosette about that? Now it was obvious why 'Monsieur Fauchelevent' had run out that way- he'd been afraid of the police! How could he have been so stupid, and never asked about these things? Why had his suspicions never been brought up before?

But he shook his head- would it have mattered? Would he have loved Cosette any the less? No. And asking about those things would only scare her. Why bring unhappiness to her? It was better he found out this way.

Suddenly he remembered the night at the barricades. How he, himself, had asked Enjolras who the officer was who they were going to kill. _"It's done," _Valjean had said, returning from executing Inspector Javert. Though sitting next to the crackling fire int he sitting room, Marius shivered, remembering. Valjean wasn't just a thief. Marius decided that as soon as he got the chance, he'd run some research and try and see more of what this man had done. What if he was truly dangerous? A petty thief is shameful, but a murderer? Marius would not allow a murderer to come see Cosette every day, no matter how kind he might have acted towards her.

"Well, _excuse me for interrupting,_" Cosette's voice chirped through the door, full of over-exaggerated annoyance, "But I'm here to tell you two that lunch is being served- if you can stand to stop your terribly important conversation to sit with the rest of the family."

She opened the door as she said this, and walked inside, looking around. Marius couldn't help it- he stared at her as though he'd never really seen her before. How could it be that this gentle, birdlike and angelic being had been raised by such a wretched man? The miserable, shameful man who'd confessed to Marius that morning surely could not have been capable of caring for this innocent creature.

But here she was standing in front of him. He recalled all the joyous, loving things she'd told him about her father. 'Papa,' she called him. The thought made his senses reel.

"Where is papa_?"_ she asked, seeming to read his mind. Marius was glad that she couldn't. He put his head back in his hands, not looking at her or answering. Confused and worried, Cosette got down on her knees in front of him so her face could be at his level, and moved his hands away from his face. "What is the matter?"

He had to say something reassuring, or else she'd know something was wrong.

"Nothing," he said, forcing himself to smile. There was so much to smile about, he knew, but it still felt like work in light of what had just happened. "But your father will not be joining us."

"For lunch?" she asked. "Why not? If he's being his strange, eccentric self again, I must have a word with him. It's simply not alright to just retreat and leave a happy couple alone. Honestly, the man has been acting quite strange, and I will have to scold him. He's almost making me unhappy- of course, it is quite difficult to be unhappy. I am _so_ happy, it is almost a fairy tale-"

She probably would have continued chattering on, but Marius stepped in.

"No- he is not joining us here to live," he said, somewhat more forcefully than he'd meant to.

She leaned back ever so slightly, a crease in her brow. For a moment she just looked pensive. Then, "Why? I made him a room. He promised to come stay here."

Marius didn't know how to answer, because the truth was not an option. "He says he'd rather stay where he is."

Cosette was already shaking her head. "Oh, I knew this would happen, I just knew it! We were so intent on being so deliriously happy, but Papa has always been odd, and he is being a miserable old grouch-"

"Cosette, no," Marius said. "Don't say that. You said he's always been... eccentric. He's not trying to make you miserable." It killed him to say it, but he continued. "And he'll be coming to visit you in the evenings."

"You won't take my side against him? Bah!" she said, pouting. "Fine. You two really are quite funny, acting all mysterious over nothing. But tell me Marius- you seem upset. What are you thinking about?" As she said this, she took his face in her hands, holding his cheeks against her palms.

He met her gaze, her innocent and sweet gaze, and felt powerless. How could he stand to know that she would be meeting with a murderer every night, for a calm rendezvous? He couldn't.

"I am fine, Cosette," he said. Cosette raised her eyebrows, already knowing he was lying. He would have to be more convincing. He thought of happy things- and, well, after the day and night before, he had plenty of happy memories to choose from. That was enough to put a sincere smile on his face. "I am happy."

She wrapped her arms around him in what was meant to be a short embrace, but he held her to him tightly, jealously. All the while, he felt a bit of comfort, knowing that no matter how close this Valjean tried to get to Cosette, she was now in his arms, in _his_ protection. There was nothing he could do to take her away- Cosette was Marius' now, and she was safe. This man, half-monster, half-man, could not harm her. She was his wife now, and as he held her anxiously to him, he tried to forget about the dark convict looming so close to their relationship. The two of them were together- if this was God's price for their happiness, so be it.


	2. The Night

He retired early. Cosette had seen him go up the stairs, so he hoped she would follow soon. He undressed for bed, but did not tuck himself in- instead he sat in the armchair, letting his thoughts dwell on the horrors of the past day. The sheer dreadfulness of what had happened was overwhelming, and he could scarcely take it or understand what was happening to him. Cosette had seen this fright that had overtaken him, and he knew that in order to keep his promise, he would have to do a better job of hiding his discomfort.

Just then, Cosette entered the room, humming like a little bird. She walked over to him, and before she could say anything, he gripped her wrist and pulled her to join him on the chair, with her curled up on his lap. He hid her face against her so she would not see the traces of agony in his eyes, and felt her press her face against the top of his head, feeling the brush of her lips on his forehead and her fingers fluttering through his hair and stroking his cheek.

He looked up, and saw that she was smiling adoringly at him. He buried his fright- after all, the positives in this situation far outweighed the negatives, no matter how repulsive those negatives might be. He had Cosette- this eclipsed all else. So he let his supreme felicity reign over him and acted as though nothing at all was wrong.

He regretted one of the promises he made to Jean Valjean- that of allowing him to stay. And though he did not want to keep secrets from Cosette, he could not quite resent the promise he'd made not to tell her of this, purely because he could not stand to break her heart.

So instead, he led Cosette to believe he was simply longing for closeness, and that was the reason for his desperate embrace. She seemed content enough to take that answer, and had no questions when he held her all the tighter. She kissed him with passion when he pressed his lips to hers, giggled with delight at how intense he was, for she did not know that this desire he was feeling was not only the same desire he'd had the night before, but it was tinged with jealousy and protectiveness. He needed to prove to himself that it was he, not the convict Jean Valjean, who held Cosette and who possessed her. The sheer knowledge of their marriage was no longer enough- he needed to be her everything, and that was when he vowed to push the convict out of her life. Not break his promise, and not force him out too directly, but he would move without weakness and without falter. The man would be gone, where he could not affect her and could not harm her in any way. After all, if the man was not her father, what was he? No one.

Filled with passion, he kissed her with a vigor they had not explored the night before. Again he was reminded- quite apart from the worries of the moment before- of all the nights they had lying ahead of them, yet to be explored and taken advantage of. He truly had everything. So when he gathered her into his arms and stood, setting her down so they were standing in front of each other, he pushed the worries from his mind, only allowing himself to _feel_.

He reached to her back and felt for the buttons on her bodice, but she raised a hand to still him. He pulled away, wondering about the reason for her protest.

"I can be ready in just a few minutes," she said.

He reached down again, brushing his lips against her neck, her jaw, her chin.

"Do not go," he begged, for he knew that should she leave- even for a moment!- he would be right back in the place he was earlier.

"But my garments are fussy," she said, her voice weaker. He felt her fingers tighten themselves in the weave they held on his hair. Her heart was beating powerfully in her breast, pushed up against him so he could feel, and he knew she was not going anywhere.

"I must learn sometime," he reasoned, and then descended to kiss her again, and she complied.

As it turned out, the garments were not that fussy. When on a mission, hurried and desperate as he felt in those moments, nothing stood in their way.

He scooped her up and deposited her on the bed, and then blew out all the candles, then draped the hangings closed so they were in pitch darkness. He heard only her breaths and sighs as he covered every part of her skin with kisses, trying to love her as thoroughly and tangibly as he could, so there was no possible way she could ever doubt it. To satisfy his possessive desire, he held her tightly in his arms, and listened as she sighed, proud that he could initiate that reaction from her. He almost forced his love upon her, making her see it, making her feel it, so she would know without a doubt how he felt.

Afterwards, he lay on his back, breathing hard. Cosette lay next to him, and laid one of her smooth hands over his heart, feeling the beats. He felt unbelievably in control then- his emotions were finally in check. He was silly to worry- Cosette was his. She loved him. She would not be hurt. The easy and casual way they were laying now just was a testament to their bond.

"Marius?" she whispered, and he felt on top of the world. The way she said his name proved all along that he'd been right- in her world, he came first. He was silly to ever worry.

"Could you try to be… gentler next time?" she whispered shyly.

At first he just apologized and promised that he would. He whispered dotingly as a lover should, profusely sorry for rushing things, for hurting her. His emotions ran away with him, he'd said. She forgave him easily- after all, they hadn't exactly had much practice, and mistakes were bound to be made. He brushed his lips over parts of her- because he couldn't find her lips in the dark, he kissed whatever part of her was closest until he made her way up to her face.

"Where did I hurt you?" he asked softly. At first she didn't want to tell him, as though ashamed of the fact that he'd hurt her. But then when she did tell him, he kissed all the places he'd held too hard or moved to fast over. Halfway through him comforting her, a change occurred. Cosette sighed, and he knew she didn't want him to comfort her anymore. Slowly and gently this time, he showed her how he could worship her, love her with everything in him. This time, he was confident that she got the message. When she fell asleep, her arm was slung around him, her body scooped to lay next to his.

It wasn't until she was fast asleep, and he was left pondering, that this thought occurred to him:

In trying to be the perfect husband, her angel, her lover, her everything, he'd hurt her. In trying to possess her and protect her, he'd rushed things and made her uncomfortable. He, the young, innocent man, had hurt her; the old convict never had.

He shivered, and touched the head of his angel, asleep and curled up next to him. She was so trusting, so forgiving. The thought roused his protective instincts even more, but he suppressed them, for fear that he would hurt her again.

When he finally did fall asleep, his thoughts were tangled in his brain like a knotted skein of yarn. The day had been a thought provoking one.

He awoke shortly after, feeling sick to his stomach about what had happened earlier. His mistake had been a forgivable one- he'd maybe been a little rough; it wasn't as though he'd caused any bruises or made her feel objectified. In short, it was just their inexperience showing through- him forgetting how to interpret her body language. However, as forgivable an offense as that had been, it seemed to swell in importance. He was suddenly desperate for an attempt to make things right- to show that he was sensitive and caring.

Not a moment after he'd wished this, Cosette began muttering something in her sleep. At first they were indiscernible noises, but then they turned to words. Words like "alone," "cold," "don't," and "hungry."

She whimpered, and he noticed she was shaking- a nightmare. So he put his arms around her and held her, and whispered back.

"Cosette, everything's alright. You're safe, you're with me, with Marius. I love you… you're home, you're not alone."

"Marius…" she whispered, and stopped shaking. "I love…" she whispered, then stopped talking. Marius suddenly saw a future- helping Cosette through the night, holding her in rainstorms, staying up late talking… wonderful things. She whimpered contentedly a few times before he, too, fell asleep. But he did not sleep as soundly as Cosette- dark, lurking images kept threatening his rest, and it wasn't until he woke up that he realized what they were: images of his future.


	3. Vernon

Dinnertime became Marius' least favorite time of day. He even came to dread it.

During the day, he could balance everything. He would spend a few hours working, and spend some time with Cosette. She would chatter about everything- really, _everything _that came into her mind. From visitors to the household- whether they be birds in the garden or humans in the parlor to a new dress she'd seen in a shop somewhere to complaining about Toussaint and Nicolette fighting to asking Marius what was on his mind at any given moment of the day. She'd weave in and out of his study, picking books off the shelves, leafing through them, and declaring them dreadfully boring.

"I like that book," he'd defend.

She'd pick it up again, and reconsider. "Then I shall read it."

During the day, she was his wife. If he spent too much time on his work, he'd hear about it within minutes, and would be dragged away to do something more fun. However, come dinner time, things changed.

If Cosette was speaking at dinner, it was about one things. Usually her conversation topics changed like breezes change in the springtime, but at dinner, she would always talk about her father. And naturally so; he would visit for an hour or so before dinner every day. She would be repeating something funny he said, or would be asking grandfather about something strange he'd done. She would patter on about his visits, and could think of little else. Sometimes, she'd wonder aloud as to why he was acting so impersonal and strange lately, and Marius had to think of an excuse for him. He would have to find something sympathetic and understanding to say.

"He's busy," he'd say. Or, when for a few days Jean Valjean did not visit, Marius said "Isn't he in the habit of going away on business for a few days? He hasn't done that recently. He's probably just away." All the while, he knew exactly what was happening, and he couldn't say he disapproved.

So one day he suggested they go to Vernon- he liked to go there every few months and lay some flowers by his father's grave, and he was overdue for a visit. Valjean had not come for a few weeks, and so they decided to go.

They took a carriage there, and got to Vernon relatively late in the evening. Instead of going anywhere, they just ate some dinner the innkeeper's wife was making the guests and checked into their room. Traveling had exhausted them, so they went straight to bed.

"Have you traveled many places?" Cosette asked, yawning halfway through her question. "I've scarcely ever traveled and I didn't know it would be this tiring."

"Not too many. Mainly between Paris and here. But we could go to more places if you want to," he said, thinking about the large sum of money they had that he still hadn't touched. It was tempting- but not tempting enough to spend if it was illegal, and it very well could be. Being rich would be nice- but only if it was honest money.

"Where?" she asked, thinking. "You know German. We could start in Germany."

"I do, that's right. Or Italy. We could see the cities together, go places we always wanted to see."

"Which is the city that's almost underwater? The one where people only travel in boats?"

"Venice," Marius said. "We could go there. They have glassblowing factories all over, you could buy some Venetian glass."

Her eyes were closed by this time, and for a long time she was silent and he thought she'd fallen asleep. Then, she spoke again. "My father used to tell me about places all over Europe. He didn't travel much, but he read a lot and he told me how things were different than in France. My favorite place was always Venice- it doesn't sound real, does it? It sounds so beautiful. He said it was beautiful."

"I hear it smells like dead fish," Marius said bitterly, thinking Venice started to lose its appeal. "Why don't we go to Rome?"

She sighed. "I suppose that would be fine, too," she said sadly, and then he felt bad. Suddenly, she sat up.

"Oh, no! I forgot-"

"What?"

"My father hasn't visited in a long time, you know, so I forgot to send Nicolette to leave a message with a porter that we're away. But what if he comes back and comes to visit and we're not there?" She sounded very upset.

_He's not going to come back,_ Marius thought, and felt sorry that he couldn't tell her more without breaking his promise. "Well the household knows where we are, and they'll let him know and he can come back. Besides, we're only staying here for one night, two at most."

She didn't say anything, just lay back down. The silence was pressing for a long time, because neither of them were sleeping and he was feeling more and more guilty. He knew this was hurting her, and yet didn't see another way of going about the situation. It was hurting her not to see her father, but he just couldn't bear to have her with him. Not after what he'd done. Thievery was embarrassing, but possible murder? No. She could not be with a murderer.

She loved her father still. It was obvious. And he couldn't help feeling put off by that. He felt guilty about _that_, too. How could he be so self-absorbed as to care that she loved her father? _Because you don't love him. Because you'd be glad to see the back of him. And that makes her different from you, and you resent that difference. _And, more selfishly,_ why do you love him when you have me?_

"Cosette?" he asked out into the silence.

"Hmm?" she asked, sounding very tired.

"Are you happy?"

"Of course," she said tiredly. "Don't worry. Just go to sleep."

"No- are you happy with... me?"

She was awake then, and rose up.

"Of course," she said again, but this time more emphatically. "Why would you even wonder?"

"I don't know," he said self-consciously. "I was just thinking, is all."

"Well don't think like that anymore," she said in her scolding voice. "I don't like it at _all._ Because it's wrong and it makes you unhappy and I cannot stand it when you're unhappy."

"Alright," he said, smiling. "I believe you."

"Well... good," she said, seeming confused about why this came up. But instead of asking him, she just went to sleep.

He tried to sleep, too, and even got a few hours in, but the weekend was just wrought with insecurities. He always felt in coming to Vernon that he was repaying a huge debt that he had procured when he was younger. That coming to visit his father's grave was his penance for being such an ungrateful son, but that he could never completely right his wrongs. He felt awful about his father for the entire weekend. But in the meantime, thoughts of Jean Valjean kept haunting his mind.

Once they had returned home, he went out just to clear his mind, walking about the streets of Paris and through some fields and parks. Thoughts of Valjean plagued him the whole time- thoughts of him murdering that M. Madeleine, thoughts of him taking Cosette away, thoughts of Cosette _wanting _to go away because she loved her 'father' more than he, Marius. Finally, he snapped.

"Just leave me _alone!"_ he yelled, clenching his fists. "Let me go on with my life!" he begged.

But he got no answer, apart from the startled stares of passerby on the streets.


	4. Enjoying Life

**Hey... I updating is fun, is it not? I love Les Miz... haha... duh...**

**And in response to one review, 'Eponine Thenardier': It's stated directly in the book that Marius brings Cosette to Vernon, at exactly this time after their marriage, when he is trying to pull her away from Valjean. I could pull out quotes, but I won't. Unless you want to challenge me... mwahahaha... just kidding. But thanks for your input anyway, I appreciate it. I always love getting reviews.**

* * *

Despite both men wanting different things for her, Cosette managed quite well deciding her own feelings. While her father was mourning the loss of her only a few miles away, and Marius was already dreading it (despite not being close to losing her at all), Cosette cheerfully let the misery around her roll off of her. She tried her best to cheer up anyone who seemed upset, and that was the best she could do.

She could not be blamed for her ignorance. Her father never saw her anymore, never spoke to her about why he left in the first place. How could she beg him to stay? How could she bring it up to Marius, who was already so cold when she brought up the subject of her father? She knew no details, none of the problems. To have tried to right the issues would have been impossible for her.

And furthermore, she really only noticed the discrepancies and changes in relationship on the part of her father. Marius' moods were rather a mystery to her- she caught glimpses of his sadness and his thoughtfulness, but his truly torn and concerned feelings were quite hidden from her. See, her problems with her father affected her directly. He never came to visit anymore, and when he used to come to visit, he would call her Madame and make her refer to him as 'Monsieur Jean.' This put her off, distanced her from him. He no longer accepted her embraces or scoldings or kind loving words- he was a different man. A man who was much colder. He had changed, but so had she. She wondered often if it was _she_ who had caused this problem with her marriage- if her papa resented her for leaving him. It was a cruel thought, so she never voiced it.

However, she did not perceive too much of the problems concerning Marius, and this was why: they did not concern her. When Marius was around Cosette, he was happy. Her presence soothed him, and reassured him, so he could be calm around her. When he was truly being tortured with thoughts of Jean Valjean, it was when she was not around. Also, he was trying with everything he had to hide these from her. If she ever caught a glimpse of them, he'd distract her right away. If she was ever upset about her father, he would banish those thoughts away quickly, too. He would kiss her, or embrace her quickly. If she went for a long period of time being upset, he'd find another way to distract her, and take her out for a walk in the Luxembourg or bring her flowers, or they'd go upstairs and they'd occupy themselves with each other. She had no time to notice his preoccupied nature- for he preoccupied her even more.

And truth be told, she did not want to know why her father was being so odd. Frankly, he was being rude. She missed him, but she wanted him to come back when he was ready to be kind again. So for now, she was content to spend time enjoying her youth and being a newlywed and push any negative aspects from her life. Her father was being negative. And asking Marius about her father seemed impossible, for whenever she brought him up- even in passing!- Marius would go quiet and thoughtful and would often say something sad. So that was negative too. Instead she focused elsewhere.

When she focused other places, she had many things to make her happy. Grandfather, for one- who was both entertaining and showered her with gifts. He often made her laugh, but was crude as could be. He did not restrain himself, either, and sometimes his sense of humor could be overbearing. But she met people that she did not know before, and for the first time in her life since the convent, Cosette knew herself to have one or two people she could call friends. She was the woman of the house, and ran all the expenses and was in charge of keeping the household working and smooth. She was happy with her life. And, of course, married life offered one or two other pleasures that she couldn't say she had before. She didn't understand why many women seemed to dread it- married life, and it's, er, 'duties,' made her happier than she could have imagined.

She had a wonderful time in Vernon, somber though the visit had been, and had an experience staying in an inn (though the atmosphere was not to her liking). She was able to discuss the future with Marius- something she had never really dome before, because her father had always changed the subject when it came up. They made plans- some achievable, some extravagant. It didn't matter what they actually were- making the plans was the fun part.

"So... you are the hare," Marius said late one night as they stayed up in the parlor. "And I will be the hound. I'm going to try and stop you, and you are trying to escape..."

He was explaining a board game to her in the evening, upon learning that she had never played neither cards nor board games in her youth.

"I was told they were immoral."

"We're not betting money," he said. "That would be immoral. But simply playing- that's preposterous! I say it's perfectly fine, so I'm teaching you."

After the first round, she won. Then they played again, and she beat him. On the third round, though, Marius stopped letting her win and she was beaten, getting trapped in the corner by the hounds.

They made it a tradition that they would do something fun together after the rest of the house went to bed- for both Aunt Gillenormond and Grandfather were quite boring, really, especially after eight o'clock. She learned whist the next night, and they played that for a few nights. Then he decided that he needed to catch up on his English, for it was getting rusty.

"Have you read Shakepeare?"

"No. Marius, unlike you, I only speak one language."

"Right... I forgot. Well, they're absolutely ruined once they're translated, so there's no point in trying to have you read the plays or poems in French. Sit down, we'll read them in English. We'll go slow, I'll explain what's going on." He pulled a volume from the library, which was a composite of Shakepeare's plays in English.

They started with _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

Their life progressed thus. They went out to dinner sometimes, and could fly off at a moment's notice. They just spent time together, really, doing interesting things together. Cosette had to admit, upon learning games, English, and exploring Paris (which, despite living there for years, she had never really enjoyed until now- her father did not approve of exploring), her life was more interesting now. She knew she would like her life more now simply because she was spending it with someone she so desperately loved, but she felt guilty about loving it for the variety as well. The friends, the attention she got from everyone, simply learning so much more about the world. She felt like she was betraying her father by enjoying her life this much- but he wanted her to be happy didn't he?

This battle inside her made her feel awful, so she often pushed it away. She slept calmly and laughed away her days. It was only sometimes, in nightmares, where she would remember that she had not always been this happy, and it was her father who had changed that, turned her life around. She would wake very late in the night, and would cry silently. For, despite all these distractions, she still dearly loved her Papa.


	5. The Lark

A few evenings later, the rest of the house was asleep when Marius and Cosette were laying awake in their bedroom. They had just made love, and Marius was running his hands over Cosette's skin, golden in the flickering candlelight. He stopped, though, once he found a scar about the length of his thumb, right above the back of her knee on her thigh. It was long-ago healed; it was white now and the the only evidence that it had once been there was the bump that the skin over it caused from not healing properly. But it was a large scar, and thick, too. It would have had to have been a very large wound.

"Where is this from?" he asked, caressing it with his hand.

She twisted around to look at it. "Oh, that? Probably something from when I was little."

He furrowed his brow. "What happened when you were little?" His mind instantly jumped to awful situations- she and Valjean running from the police, her being beaten, getting caught on something because of her father's carelessness...

She made a thoughtful face. "I'm not sure, exactly... I don't remember it very well. But it was before I lived with my father, but my mother had already died. Somewhere far from Paris. All I remember is I was terribly unhappy, and I remember a lot of pain. And cold. I was always cold."

_What am I to Cosette? A passer. She had need of me..._ Marius remembered Cosette's father saying words similar to those three months ago, when he'd come to confess. Suddenly it made sense- she was treated badly as a child. She lived with cruel people who abused her. The thought made his senses reel in a way far worse than whenever he thought of Jean Valjean- to abuse Cosette! Worse, to abuse her when she was a little girl... who would do such a thing?

"And one other thing," she said thoughtfully. "I remember they called me, 'the lark.' I don't know why."

He lay down then, and looked into the fireplace, watching the flames crackle against the wood. When he closed his eyes, he still saw the fire, as though it was imprinted on the back of his eyelids. The lark. He knew the name, too; that was why he always went to the Field of the Lark after the incident at the Gorbeau house...

Thenardier. She must have lived with him. And her father had found her, seen the injustice, and taken her away... That was why they knew her, back in the Gorbeau house. But he didn't have any proof, did he? And asking her would do nothing... he doubted she would even remember the name. If he saw Thenardier, he had enough reasons to hate him without this. Adding mistreatment of Cosette to the pile would only make him act irrationally, should he ever get the chance to repay his father's debt. He wouldn't want to kill the man who'd saved his father's life.

But could Valjean really be that terrible, if he'd saved a little girl from that terrible fate?

_That's not heroism,_ Marius said to himself. _To save an innocent creature from horror is the right thing to do. You would do the same thing, if you saw a little girl being beaten. Wouldn't you?_

Yes, he would. He knew he would, and he knew that Cosette would do the same thing, and they would raise the child as their own. So would many people. But did that make her father's actions less admirable, just because they were what anyone should have done? He couldn't decide. All he knew was that her father obviously had a good reason in taking her in, and from what he'd heard from Cosette, had been nothing but good to her in all their years together.

This gave him a lot to think about.

* * *

She thought of her father less and less. At one time, she'd ignored pining thoughts of him because they made her unhappy, but the longer she spent away from him, the less those thoughts even entered her mind. It used to be that when she saw things that reminded her of him, she would grow sad and thoughtful. Now it was that she did not even notice those things anymore. When she and Marius went to the rue Plumet again, she did not even think of her father, and she'd lived in that house with him for years. The only memories the house brought to her were the ones from the spring of 1832, and Marius. Her whole life had become about her life with Marius, and she wasn't sad about it.

For a month and a half her father had come every day at five in the evening. When he'd stopped, she still viewed that time as her father's time. His absense was tangible to her. But even that had faded- after a few weeks of his absense, five o'clock came and went without her noticing. Her new life molded itself around his absense, and she began filling her time with other things.

Spring turned warmer and warmer, until it was summer in Paris, and the sun beat down on the stone streets. It was so hot that she did not want to go out very much, considering all the layers she wore when she did. If she wanted to go outside, she'd spend time in the garden. That way if she became overheated she could quickly go back inside.

That was what she was doing on that afternoon- she was out with Grandfather, strolling around and ignoring his obscene comments when Marius came bursting out of the house. She couldn't grasp onto what he was saying- he was blabbering on that he was some kind of fool, and that he didn't know the truth, and they had to hurry. Then he kissed her, and called for a fiacre.

They were going to Papa's house! She couldn't believe it- she had no idea what Marius was talking about when he offered an explanation, she only knew that she would be seeing here Papa again after all this time. And now that she knew she'd see him, she suddenly realized how much she missed him- how could she have forgotten? Was she really that cruel of a daughter?

Well, it wouldn't matter, because Marius was insisting they bring her father home with them to live, and she quite agreed. What took Marius so long to realize that her father had been foolish in refusing their invitation? She did not know, but she _did_ know she was glad that the situation would be righted.

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**Thanks for your reviews thus far, guys. I don't know how many more chapters, but I have one more idea I want to cover, and it might be one chapter or it might be more. Lemme know what you think and if you have anything you want to see addressed. A lot of times it helps clear things up!**


	6. Tears in the Night

**Yes, this is going to be at least one more chapter. Possibly more... :) Hope you guys like this one- it's filled with a lot of misunderstandings and sadness and tears... Poor Cosette, poor Marius, poor Valjean. Why does love hurt people more than it helps?**

**By the way... I wanted to write the reaction to the death scene, not the actual death scene. Victor Hugo already wrote it gorgeously, with both Cosette and Marius' reactions. See, I don't want to even try to rewrite something he already did. So I moved over that, and this is what happens after he died.**

**And always... reviews!**

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Tears fell thick down her face as they went through the door back into their home. She could not catch her breath, her chest was constricted, she felt physical pain along with the emotional pain of losing her father. Fatigue was crushing her, and she felt aches coming from her heart that seemed to push tears from her eyes. She couldn't see properly, so she leaned on her husband to go up the stairs. He helped her into their room and then sat her down in a chair to undo her shoes. She felt utterly helpless as he readied her for bed, almost ashamed at her lack of ability to move. But she didn't see how she could do anything different. Anyway, on a normal evening she didn't undo most of her own clothing- it was too difficult. So she just sat and let Marius unbutton her dress until she was just in her chemise.

He helped her into bed then, and joined her himself a minute later. She pressed herself close to him, and pressed her face into his chest. Her eyes ached and burned from the tears that had poured out, and tried to suppress the pain. She needed sleep. Sleep would make her feel better and it would provide momentary relief for the pain.

"But I don't deserve to feel better," she whimpered quietly. "I don't want to forget him."

"Hush," Marius said, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. It felt good to be embraced that way- the pain inside her seemed to shrink. "You won't forget him, you love him. And I want you to feel better. You deserve to feel better- you did nothing wrong."

"I didn't think of him- I'm cruel, I'm an ungrateful daughter. After how good he was to me, I just... forgot him... I went on being happy when he was alone, dying, sad. He missed me and I didn't even think of him! I _hate myself." _The thoughts hurt to say, but only because she thought they were true.

"Don't," he said. "Don't hate yourself. You didn't forget him, remember? You were asking about him almost every day, wondering where he was. You're not ungrateful, and you're not cruel. I know he's not angry with you- no one could be angry with you." He wanted her to feel better, to take away some of this pain from her.

_It's me who should never feel better- what I did was inexcusable. I was cruel, **I **was ungrateful, _he thought. He wanted to add that, but decided against it. _This isn't about you. She's hurting- don't add your pain to hers. She'll try to make you feel better or something of the like, and that will only make you feel more guilty._

She sobbed for a long time, until her eyelids were swollen and her throat was scratchy. She sobbed until she had no more energy and, worn out, she fell asleep. She idly thought, right before she fell asleep, how glad she was that she had Marius. Without him, she wouldn't know what to do. He was good, and he was good to her.

* * *

It was the next day when she found out the whole story- or the abridged version, still. Out of respect to Jean Valjean, Marius did not tell Cosette that he'd been in the galleys. Marius knew it would not crush Cosette the way Valjean thought it would- she would look past that and forgive, because that was the way she was. However, he did not mention it because Valjean did not want her to have that memory of him. Instead Marius told her of the misunderstanding- that her father had admitted to committing a crime, but not elaborating at all. Marius believed something wrong, had overreacted, and the two had strained terms ever since. Marius had banned him from the house. Vajean had completed the separation, by ending his visits.

"I'm sorry," Marius said, not able to look at her. "I was a fool, an ungrateful, selfish fool. I did not know what a great man he was- I wanted to protect you, but I was foolish-"

"Why didn't you ask him for the full story?" Cosette said, her eyes piercing with their sadness. She looked at him candidly.

"What?"

"If you knew he didn't tell you everything, why didn't you ask for him to tell you?"

"I... don't know," he said, defeated. The thought had never really occurred to him. Cosette just shook her head and walked away.

He was an idiot- asking for the truth! Why hadn't he done that? It was instances like this when he thought that Cosette might be smarter than he. Being childlike sometimes seemed silly and young, but it also cast a different light on the world. She saw things differently, but it had an intelligence all its own. Cosette would have asked for the truth, and she would have gotten it. And all their problems wold have dissipated. There would be no misunderstandings, and her father would probably be living with them at that very moment.

And she couldn't understand why Marius wouldn't do that.

* * *

Marius slept in a different room that night, because he thought he knew Cosette would not want him near her. She avoided him throughout the day, and when she did look at him, she gave him a disappointed gaze. He had let her down and she knew it, and he had hurt her. She had never expected him to hurt her, and he'd caused her more pain she'd felt in years.

The funeral passed, and Cosette stood next to Marius to whole time, so as to not create any curiosity. But she cried silently into her handkerchief, not leaning on him for any comfort. He saw her hurting, but he knew she did not want his comfort. He wanted to make her feel better, but saw nothing he could do without offending her. Instead he withdrew himself, settling for trying not to upset her anymore.

He spent the next night alone as well, and the next. They'd only been married a few months- could he really have already destroyed their love? He would never forgive himself if he had. If, by this mistake, he'd ruined the best thing that would doubtlessly ever be in his life.

The thought made him sick. Lose Cosette, because of this mistake. He was already content to hate himself for the rest of his life, for the cruel way he'd treated Valjean. But if Cosette no longer loved him, hating himself would not suffice. Alone in the other bedroom, he sickened himself even further worrying about what she thought about him. Had he destroyed the only wonderful thing in his life, trying to make it better? He was a horrid person. He could not live with himself.

* * *

After a week of them sleeping apart, Cosette was lying awake in her room late in the night. She could not fall asleep. Thoughts were tangled in her brain, and she kept thinking about the pain of losing her father. Pain was overtaking her, and she wanted Marius. She wanted him beside her, holding her like he usually did when she couldn't fall asleep. She did not know why he was not sleeping with her like he usually did- he did not tell her why, he just did not join her a few nights ago and had not come back. She missed him.

Yes, she'd been angry and disappointed. He'd lied to her and let her father lie to them both. However, she knew she was not being fair. He was right when he said he was trying to protect her, and could she blame him for that? He did not do this to cause her pain. She only wished he hadn't done it at all. But after her anger had dissipated- and dissipate it had- she now wanted him back.

She wanted distance from him at first, but now wanted comfort. Being alone did not make the pain go away, it only made the wound hurt more. And after losing her father, it seemed she was now losing Marius as well. His sulking hurt her. She needed him to be there for her, and he wasn't. Again, he thought he was helping, but he was just being stupid.

Then she heard footsteps in the hallway, and then the door downstairs open onto the streets. Confused, she leaped out of bed and put on a dressing gown and peered out the shutters just in time to watch Marius get into a fiacre.


	7. Waiting Up

**There, this is the last chapter. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me what you think of this one. As much as you can write, I love reading reviews! Ahh! Thanks for reading thus far, too. :)**

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Cosette waited downstairs nervously, fiddling with the ties on her dressing gown. Her stomach ached with her worries, and her brow was wrinkled. Midnight passed, and then she did not try and keep track as the grandfather clock chimed off every quarter of an hour. However, she did notice when it rang out one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock.

_He's not going to come home,_ Cosette thought to herself as tears rang down from her eyes. _He's gone away. He's not coming back._

This hurt more than she'd ever expect it to- and she expected it to hurt. But this was excruciatingly painful. How many times had she been left? This was worse than all the others- she'd never expected Marius to leave her. He promised he wouldn't, over and over. And yet he was gone. You'd think that, by now, she would be used to having people leave her. Would the pain dull? It did with her father, when he stopped coming to visit. This time, she knew it would not.

What would happen to her? Would she be allowed to stay in this house with grandfather, or would she have to move somewhere else? She remembered she still owned the rue Plumet, but she did not want to live there. Not without Marius. There were too many memories of him there.

"Oh!" she cried, holding her head in her hands and sobbing. "This cannot be true. He can't have left me. He must still love me!"

She realized that she would never recover from this. There were so many memories they shared- wonderful memories. When they kissed for the first time in her garden, all those hours spent under the moonlight, seeing him again after four months of him fighting for his life, making love for the first time, sleeping with their arms entwined... and silly memories, too. Like when in the middle of the night when they were both still awake, her stomach had growled. They went downstairs to get some bread, and ended up falling asleep on the living room couch, and were discovered by Grandfather the next morning. Or when they went to their first fancy dinner party together, with ball gowns and dancing.

Those memories, once so sweet, would turn poisonous in his absense. They would become weapons, and they would hurt to think about. They could no longer be good times- they would be reminders of the wonderful thing she had let slip by.

When the clock rang out three-thirty in the morning, the doorknob turned. Cosette's heart jumped to her throat, and her stomach turned over. Marius entered the house soaked to the skin, his hair plastered to his head, shivering. He jumped when he saw her standing in the living room, staring at him with wide and tearful eyes.

They both began talking at once. He fell to his knees, and Cosette marched forward, hitting him on the arm.

"Where _were_ you?" she demanded.

"Please, forgive me-"

"I had no idea where you went, I thought you left-"

"I can't go on as things were-"

"If you want to leave, fine, I'll find some way to live with that, but at least say goodbye-"

"I know you no longer love me," they both said, and then stopped.

"Pardon?" they both said again.

"_I_ no longer love _you?_" Marius exclaimed.

"Why- yes. Isn't that why you left tonight?" Cosette asked, her eyes giant.

"Cosette!" Marius exclaimed, jumping to his feet and taking her hand. "I didn't _leave_ tonight. I went out- I went to church. I wanted to talk to a priest and confess what I did to your father- of course, I was crazed. The church was empty, it was past midnight. But I stayed in there for hours, praying, and then I walked home. I was thinking about you, and about fixing this, praying for a solution... I got lost, it was raining, it took me over an hour to get back-"

"A solution? You mean you don't want to leave me?" she asked in a small voice.

"I thought that's what _you_ wanted," he said.

"No!" she said, almost laughing, it was so ridiculous. "Never!"

"So... you still love me?" he asked nervously.

"Of course!" she said, hitting him on the arm again. "I never stopped. But don't you _dare _just run away like that again. I wanted you here- no, I needed you here, with me. I needed you to help me, to take care of me... I missed my papa, I was sad, I was lonely, and meanwhile, you were nowhere to be found! Why weren't you sleeping with me?"

"I thought you didn't want to see me again, after what I did," he said.

"At first. Maybe for a few minutes... but I forgave you. I needed you with me..." she said, tearing up again.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her over and over again. She felt the rain from his clothes seeping through her nightdress, but she didn't care, and just pressed herself closer to him as he pressed his lips to hers time after time. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll never leave you again-"

"Promise me," she said weakly.

"I promise never to leave you again."

"I believe you. I forgive you," she said.

"Just let me show you how much I love you- I tried before, I was trying to protect you, but it did not work."

"I love you so much," she managed to get out, before he kissed her again, silencing her this time. She pulled herself closer to him, and they struggled up the stairs together. Once they reached the privacy of their own bedroom, he pulled her nightgown over her head and she undid the soaking clothing from him, letting them fall to the floor. Instead of just desire, they were feeling passion and need, so acute and present that it was physically painful. It was beyond sexual- it was sensual and cognitive, where the other person was the only thing in the world to them at that moment.

Once they were naked, they touched each others bodies with the kind of adoration that only comes from true love mixed with passion. It was rushed, but it was patient. It was erotic, but it was beautiful at the same time. He carried her to their bed and made love to her with an intensity that surprised the both. They pulled themselves closer together, as though no space at all could be between them. They gasped out each other's names, and held tight to each other. She dug her fingernails and bit her lip with passion, drawing blood from both of them accidently. She let out a small cry and closed her eyes, wrapping her legs around him and not letting him go until long after they were finished.

"Let's never let that happen again," Cosette said breathlessly. "I never want to go another day without speaking to you."

He continued kissing her lips and her face, and she closed her eyes, breathing out. As long as she had Marius, as long as she had this security of his love, she could get through. Even her father's death was not irreparable.

But when he pulled up and looked her in the eyes, his face was concerned.

"I can't promise we'll never have any difficulties again," he said. "We're too different not to ever fight about anything... it was amazing we made it as long as we did without any problems."

"Let's not make it a habit, though," she said nervously.

"No- I mean, if problems come up again, we have to do something about it. I promise not to just hide away, if you promise to tell me what you want. This time, I tried to fix the problem, but had no idea what you wanted from me, and it bitterly failed. We can only make it work if we both tell each other what we need. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she said. "I was unfair, too... I just expected you to know when I was done being mad at you, and when you were supposed to be with me again. But, there is something I want right now."

He furrowed his brow- did they already have another problem?

"Whatever you need," he answered.

"I want you to kiss me," she said, with a coy smile.

So he did.


End file.
